With Love, You From the Future.

If I were to go back and meet my younger self, I can already imagine how things would play out. 

We would meet at Coffee Corner, our safe space in town that held so many memories and is frozen in time within our mind and the pictures we have taken there. She would arrive over an hour early to be sure that she had the time right and enough wiggle room in her schedule to overthink every interaction that we were about to have. I would walk in about five minutes after she did and laugh at the fact that some things really never change. 

She would order a French Vanilla Steamer and cinnamon roll, warmed. I would order an oat milk latte because I now know what that much dairy does to my system and my skin. I would take the time to look at the art that hangs on the walls that was done by a local artist, and in between each new piece, I would glance back to see if she was still staring at me… Analyzing everything about who we have become.  

I would be able to tell how nervous she is for the conversation that would transpire over the course of the next couple of hours. She would be fiddling with her sleeves, trying to make herself look smaller. I would look at her with sadness, because I would remember that we used to be so scared of taking up too much space in the world... Hiding who we really were in fear of the judgment that would come with it. Looking to her knowing that I would have to ease her into each new topic and idea that comes into play. Thinking about the fact that I am just as nervous about how she is going to react as she is about the things that are going to come out of my mouth in an attempt to answer all of her questions. 

“Did we ever make it out of Kewaskum?”

The beginning of what I knew was going to be a shocking discussion for us both. Because yes, we did. We went to college in Green Bay and changed our major at least four times before settling on what we thought we were meant to do… Only to be told four days before graduation that the plan we had is not at all what was going to happen. But we graduated, yes. Twice, actually. While the plan was initially to go to school for law, we graduated from Green Bay with a degree in music and more love in our life than we could begin to imagine. We moved to Indiana a few months later to continue our education and become the adult that we needed (and found) when we were navigating college for the first time. I would tell her that we currently live in Michigan, about 320 miles away from Kewaskum and everyone we grew up with. But we look at it a little differently now. When we make trips Home, we find that we are longing for some of that feeling of “home” because we have been moving around for the past three years. 

“What about mom and Kyle?”

Mom and Kyle are both still around. Mom will be celebrating five years sober in less than 24 hours and Kyle lives in Campbellsport now. We don’t see them as often as we used to, but that is what happens when kids grow up - they create their own lives and begin to finally live them. Kyle is succeeding in work and he and Mandi are still together. Mom is living back in Illinois, a bit closer to Nana and Papa, well, the whole family… We talk more openly and more frequently than we used to. Right now we’re both just trying to figure a lot out. The Kewaskum house still stands, but now it stands empty and running down. We drive past it sometimes when we go Home for a visit, but we no longer feel as attached to the idea of it always being there to see. There are some things that we needed to learn to let go of, and the attachment to the house that holds those memories was one of them. 

“Okay, but are we still friends with-”

I would cut her off before she could finish because I know that there is only one person that she may be thinking about when it comes to this question. Now knowing that we live so far away from where we used to, she would be thinking about Jillian. I would go on to explain that we are closer now than we have ever been. We make frequent calls to one another just to do other things while we are on the phone together. She is still the little sister that we never really wanted, but always needed. Still as wise as she has ever been when she needs to be. Just as passionate about the things and the people that she loves and is not afraid to talk about it (or them) for hours on end when she can. We see each other every time we make a trip back to Wisconsin, and now value the time together far more than we used to. The Braatz family is still like an adopted family, and their house is still called Home (with a capital “H” because that is an important distinction we make when talking to Jill). They still show us the same love and support that they have since the moment that Jillian came into our lives. I don’t think that will ever change. 

“Does it ever get better?”

I knew that this was going to come up eventually. I also know that this question would take me a minute to think of how to answer. I would have to tell her the truth: yes, but also no. The good days come in waves, the bad days crash into shore like a tsunami. I would tell her that grad school would act as a distraction for a while, but being far from the people who we call “our people” was and continues to be hard. I would go on to explain that we gain some very important and supportive people in our life during our time away from home, but we also lose some that we thought would be there forever. We will spend some time in the hospital, but it is for the better, and we are not angry about it anymore - we are just thankful to still be alive. I would talk about the blog and how it is our outlet and how it helps others as well. Explaining that writing is something that we do regularly now, but not the mushy love poems about him (she knows exactly who I am talking about without having to say it). We are more hopeful for the future right now, and we are actually making a difference in the lives of some pretty cool “kids”.

She would tell me that she thought we would be living in New York like we always talked about with Rachel. I would have to explain to her that we don’t talk anymore despite thinking that we always would. She would try to hide her disappointment, but fail. I would assure her that it’s okay because sometimes people come into our lives, change them, and then continue to outgrow us. I would remind her that not every relationship is meant to last forever, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t matter and they didn’t leave their mark. 

We would continue to talk for hours, about love, loss, and growing in ways we never would have thought imaginable. We would stay in our corner of the shop until Coffee Corner closed for the night. I would tell her to get home safe, and watch as she walked the route home that I took for many years. I would remember where I was mentally at that point in life; being so unsure if I would make it to the age that I am now. I would slowly make my way back to the car, and begin the journey back across the lake, back to the place I now call home, knowing that even for a moment… younger me felt a sense of hope again. 

As I would arrive home, I would write this reflection of my time with younger me and title it something like “With Love, You From the Future.” and hope that I can look back on it and smile the same way I did when I left myself back home.